


la vie l'amour

by yeostabby



Category: ATEEZ (Band), Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Angst, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hongjoong is an Art Student, Jongho is Ares, M/M, New York City, San is Artemis, Seonghwa is Apollo, Slow Burn, Wooyoung is Aphrodite, Yeosang is a University Student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeostabby/pseuds/yeostabby
Summary: the greek gods have been reborn, time and time again.jung wooyoung, the god of love, can make anyone fall in love with him with a snap of his fingers.kang yeosang is the exception to the rule.
Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi (mentioned), Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 102





	la vie l'amour

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this was originally written for a part of a writing collab on twitter, but it didn't work out. however, i'm still rlly proud of this peice, and thought i'd share it with all of you!
> 
> also, the original prompt was

“Have you ever been in love?”

“I’m sorry?”

“O-oh, I was just wondering - the song reminded me.”

Wooyoung looked away from the pretty brunette girl at his side, talking to him, to listen to the music playing. It was soft, and he didn’t recognize it, but it didn’t take him long to figure out that the lyrics were about someone’s first love.

“I guess not. But doesn’t having a first love sound nice?”

Wooyoung catches the girl's eyes flickering over to the corner, where the dance floor was. There was a tall girl, wearing an impressively sparkly outfit. It seems his aura wasn’t powerful enough to turn the brunette's head. “Why don’t you go over there and ask her whether she’s ever been in love? I’m sure you care more about her answer than mine.”

A subtle flick of the eyes and his magic was connecting the two, drawing them together. While there was an undeniable thrill in making mortals fall for him, infinitely more satisfying was watching them fall for each other. That’s not to say he intended to leave this party alone. No, there were many more singles in attendance, and all it took was a look. A single gesture and they would be tripping over themselves to get closer to him. He took a moment, swiveling in his barstool to look over the party. The entire apartment was lit in a soft haze of pink, flower petals thrown over furniture and fabric hearts hanging from the wall. A ‘valentine’s day celebration of love without restriction’ this gathering was described and judging from the number of couples disappearing off down hallways, it was living up to its name.

That might just be Wooyoung, though. He has a particular habit of transforming whatever room he is in into a quasi-love shack, à la the B-52s. It comes with the territory of being the latest reincarnation of the god of love. Yes, hold the applause - Wooyoung is an immortal cosmic being, ruler of love, beauty, and pleasure. Or, he _was_. Nowadays, he’s more of a free-spirited type, finding his own pleasure instead of sorting out others. And find his own pleasure he does. ‘Turning on the charm’ is much less of a cheesy expression to him. It’s the most potent magic he has. And he’s just found who he wants to use it on.

This man is _gorgeous._ Like Johnny Depp, if Johnny Depp was a French model and 6”4 and also better looking. Wooyoung doesn’t get desperate very often, but he _has_ to have him. He takes a moment to steel his nerves, then he relaxes into himself. This is what he was made to do. It doesn’t take long for Johnny Depp Jr. to notice him, and by the time he looks over, he’s deep into Wooyoung’s spell. He stands and sweeps past him, admiring the amount of skin exposed by his deep necked shirt. The man follows him immediately, like an obedient puppy with a treat being waved in front of its face. It really is too easy sometimes. 

Once they’re on the balcony, and alone as they can be in a city of nine million people, the tension is even more apparent.

“I don’t usually like people like you, you know.” A nervous laugh is strange, coming from a person who looks so confident. 

“How so?”

He’s genuinely curious. Everyone sees him differently - he’s their desire in a human form. Alexandre, it seems, is seeing a masculine appearance.

“Well….guys. I guess. And, uh, I know it's dumb, and it’s not that there’s anything wrong with it it’s just... until now, I’ve never…”

“Never wanted to fuck a guy?”

Wooyoung enjoys seeing the blush that rises on his cheeks. He's met men that think they're straight before, but his magic doesn't create feelings. It only amplifies what’s already there. To break the silence (he’s sorry, but deep self-reflection can wait until _after_ the act, thank you very much), he asks for the man's name and lays the persuasion on a touch thick.

“Alexandre Chevrier . And uh, yours, please.”

“Wooyoung Jung. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Alexandre.”

Alexandre and Wooyoung do not remain acquaintances for long. In fact, it’s only a matter of minutes before Wooyoung is being straddled in the back of a taxi. There are fingertips causing bruises on his hips and marks being made up and down his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the driver's hands gripping the wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. Well, who can blame him for getting excited? There's a literal god of love in his backseat. 

However, the driver manages to park the taxi successfully outside of Alexandre’s apartment building, and the pair separate just long enough to make it to the front door.

“God, Wooyoung - just let me open the door..”

Wooyoung smiles against his neck, where he’s returning the favor Alexandre paid him in the taxi on the way here, leaving faint red marks. He’ll have time to turn them into proper bruises later.

They skip the elevator, walking up the steep stairs probably faster than is safe. Wooyoung barely spares a glance at his date's interior design - he notes an impressive collection of records and a jungle of potted plants before he’s pulled into the bedroom, desperate hands running under his shirt. God, he forgets every time how much influence he has.

“Wooyoung, Wooyoung…what do you want from me?”

“I’ll take whatever you give, darling~.”

-

Wooyoung wakes up to Alexandre staring at him. He looks in love. The late morning sunlight is filtering in, casting a golden glow over Alexandre’s face. He really is very handsome, but he’s nothing that hasn’t fallen in love with Wooyoung before.

“What, do I have something on my face?”

“N-no! No, it’s just- I can’t believe you’re _real_ . I feel like I’m already in love with you - like I was waiting for you to arrive, and then you _did_ like you walked out of my dreams.”

“I did.”

Alexandre doesn’t respond - too entranced by Wooyoung’s face, a soft dopey smile quirking his lips. 

“I’m not real. You're not in love with me. You’re in love with the person you see me as. You’re in love with what I give to you and how I make you feel. You don’t know who I am, but you know I make you feel alive.”

Wooyoung speaks softly. He knows he shouldn’t be talking this candidly. But, Alexandre is too focused on the way his lips move to listen to anything he’s saying.

“You’re not in love with me, darling. You’re in love with the love I make you feel.” 

“You’re so pretty...like a painting in the Louvre…”

Typical. You pour your heart out to a guy, and all they have to say is that you’re a renaissance masterpiece. 

“Why don’t you go make some breakfast?”

Alexandre agrees almost embarrassingly fast, and Wooyoung takes his absence to fully take in how fucking _lonely_ he is. He stands and stretches, walking over to the window and opens the curtains. 

“Oh, shit.”

There are two figures, one dressed entirely in red, the other in silver, standing on the roof of the building directly opposite him. While this would be worrying regardless of the circumstances, the fact that Wooyoung recognizes them is even worse. They notice him at the same time he notices them, and they make very obvious ‘come hither’ motions. Wooyoung has been avoiding coming to them for over a hundred years, and he has no intention of starting now.

Alexandre has just finished frying eggs when Wooyoung sweeps past him, fully dressed.

“Wooyoung, Wooyoung - where are you going?”

“I have to leave, Alex; don’t worry about me.”

Wooyoung considers it a mercy that he lifts his spell before he leaves. Still, there’s no doubt he’ll be a feature of Alexandre’s dreams for the foreseeable future. And then, he runs.

Lungs burning, legs aching as he sprints up the stairs. He needs to get to the roof. The door is locked, but he breaks it, and he’s so close he can taste it. He’ll outrun them this time. They won’t reach him in time, he’ll be gone - he can go now - he can go!

“Hello, Wooyoung.”

Or, he can end up on his butt, rebuffed by the man in red’s solid chest. He stands huffily, brushing dust off his white silk shirt. He takes a moment to compose himself before turning to smile at the two men.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t have expected the god of war and the moon to be working together. Haven’t times changed? Wow, I remember when you went by Diana and Mars - god, the arguments you’d have! And Jongho, remember when we were Ares and Aphrodite? We made my husband furious!”

Wooyoung lays on the charm with a trowel, attempting to distract the men so he can get closer to the edge of the building. He’s stopped by San’s hand on his shoulder, which he shrugs off. He tries not to think about the hurt in his old friend's silver eyes.

“Wooyoung, please. Come home.”

“No, San. You may be fine, riding your chariot through the night sky - but not all of us are as happy with our roles in Olympus. I thought I made my position clear. I quit.” Wooyoung again attempts to turn and leave, stopped by San’s hand tightly gripping his wrist.

“You can’t just quit being a god, Wooyoung.” Jongho’s voice is deep and calm, a stark contrast to San’s barely stifled tears.

“I can very well try! I choose to live among mortals! I choose this!” At times like this, Wooyoung wishes he could control his emotions. His voice is shrill, and he knows his eyes are beginning to glow faintly.

“You choose a life of loneliness? Constantly running? Mortals won’t ever love you, Wooyoung. They can’t.” San is tugging on his wrist now, trying to pull Wooyoung closer - into a hug? Into a hold, so he can take him against his will back home? It’s a risk Wooyoung doesn’t want to take. 

“Let me go, San! I’m not going back - I’m not going back! Why can’t I have what they have, why can’t I have love?”

“Do you think I’m happy, Wooyoung? I control wars! Innocent people die in my domain!” There’s the angry side of Jongho, beginning to creep out. Wooyoung almost wants Jongho to get angry, almost wants a fight - just something he can _feel_ . However, he also knows a battle with the god of war, _and_ the god of the wild is probably not one he would win. Escape is looking like a better and better option. 

He moves his wrist, with San’s hand up to his mouth, feigning like he is going to kiss it gently as he did so often when they were closer. Instead, he bites. San jumps back, taking his hand with him. Wooyoung runs and jumps, landing safely in the arms of the west wind. He and Zephyr have always had a special friendship, and Wooyoung trusts that he is safe in the wind's hands. Well, Zephyr doesn’t have hands, but Wooyoung believes he can protect Wooyoung across the ocean regardless. 

“Take me to New York, Zephyr. I hear it’s where everything’s happening.”

-

Yeosang is desperate for something to happen in New York. Specifically, for the elevator to arrive. He has been listening to Hongjoong wax philosophical about the wind for the last 10 minutes, and he is really, really close to doing something drastic.

“This is the sort of wind that brings about change, Yeosang. I’m telling you - things will be different!”

“Ok, Hongjoong. That sounds exciting, I guess.”

Hongjoong, while being one of Yeosang’s only friends (acquaintances? neighbors?), is also the type of person that sees signs in everything. He could tell you your entire future from a leaf he saw fall from a tree. He’s also depressingly positive. Your house could burn down, and he’d say it’s a sign to move and experience new things. Regardless of his habits, Yeosang is grateful for him. He didn’t know anyone when he moved here from Bumfuck, Ohio, and Hongjoong just happened to be in the elevator and remarkably chatty.

Yeosang and him aren’t friends in that sense - more so that Hongjoong would go insane if he doesn’t talk to someone, and Yeosang just happens to be the unlucky recipient of that. The ding of the elevator interrupts Hongjoong’s speech and Yeosangs internal monologue, and the two travel down in silence. God, Yeosang is so awkward.

Which is an awful shame, because most of his job is dealing with people. He’s a Starbucks barista at a location a borough over from his apartment, and due to his inability to make conversation or look like he’s enjoying himself, he’s usually relegated to making drinks. Today, his usual coworker is mysteriously absent, and he’s in charge of the till. He serves customer after customer until they all blend. 

“Hi, could I get a white chocolate macchiato? Thank you.”

“Uh, what name is that under?”

“Wooyoung.”

At that, Yeosang looks up. It’s not very common to see other Korean people in this area of New York. And sure enough, Wooyoung is Korean. He’s stunning too - purple hair and tan skin, and his eyes are outlined with eyeliner. Yeosang will admit the stranger is gorgeous, but he has a job to do. He writes Wooyoung’s name on a cup and hands it to the person making the drinks. The line moves on, and Wooyoung moves to the side.

-

Wooyoung is confused. The pretty barista moves on like it’s nobody's business that a god of love just ordered a drink from him. Everyone else in the store is almost drooling over him, and he even directed his magic directly _at_ the barista. (Sure, it’s a touch unethical, but the most important thing to do in any new city is establishing a reputation. And besides, he can’t tone his magic down when he’s so excited to be in a new place.)

The pretty barista calls his name, and when Wooyoung reaches to get from him, he pulls out all the stops. He can tell - this isn’t some Alexandre, to be fucked and forgotten about. No, his pretty barista is a challenge now. He leans forward and brushes his hand against the other man’s when he reaches for the drink, taking a pause to read his nametag. 

“Thank you- uh, Yeosang.”

He smiles and takes the coffee, expecting nothing less than for Yeosang to get that dopey eyed expression he associates with people under his spell. But nothing happens. Yeosang nods awkwardly and turns back to the counter to take the next person's order. Which - which is _unheard_ of. He turns on his heel and marches out of the shop, barely tasting the coffee as he drinks it in one go. 

How _dare_ this mortal be immune to him. And it’s not like it’s someone he’ll forget. No, the one person that hasn't fallen under his spell is also the most gorgeous person Wooyoung has ever seen. How is he just supposed to _forget_ him? Move on like nothing happened and find something else in this city to entertain him? Impossible. Wooyoung marches angrily until he finds a park to sit in. He terrifies some ducks when he collapses by the pond, deciding that the best use of his time is to lament to the sky.

No mortal has affected him this much. It’s supposed to be _easy._ He walks in, and people see him as their ideal person. He’s charming and funny and also _magical._ So, what makes Yeosang different? He has no idea - perhaps he’d think the boy was asexual, but his magic even affects people like that. (The attraction is platonic, but love is love, even with no sexual elements). So what is so goddamn _special_ about Yeosang-the-pretty-barista that Wooyoung can’t also affect him a little bit?

He’s well aware he’s a little bit childish. And throwing a silent, internal tantrum. And also laying down by a pond in the middle of a New York park. Which is beginning to get him some strange looks. He takes a deep breath. And then another. And then a few more, and then he stands. He is Jung Wooyoung. He is a god of love, desire personified, passion as a person, and he is not going to let one failed attempt ruin his mood. He decides he is going to go to a party and find someone else. There are 8 million people in this city, goddamnit - one of them will like him back. 

He has been wallowing in his misery for far longer than he anticipated, and the golden fingers of the Hesperides were beginning to reach over the horizon, telling him this day is almost over. He shakes his head at how ridiculous he’s being - he wasted his first day in a new city being sad. Nevertheless, the night does not have to be the same. He lets his heart lead him, and goes to find the loudest party he can.

-

“Absolutely not.”

“Pleaaaaseeeee?”

“You are 21 years old. Stop acting like a baby.”

“But, Yeo! I don’t want to go alone. Mingi and Yunho are going together, which means they’ll disappear within 5 minutes and go, I don’t know, make out in the kitchen or something, and I’ll be all alone!”

Yeosang sighs, trying desperately to not look at Hongjoong’s face. If he does, he’ll lose. Hongjoong has mastered the art of puppy dog eyes, and there’s not a single person in the building that can refuse him anything. Including Yeosang. Not for lack of trying - every single time there’s a party in the vicinity, Hongjoong accosts him and tries to get him to attend. And now that the party is only one floor above him, he really has no excuse.

“Ugh, fine.”

He ignores Hongjoong's excited squeal. It was undignified, anyway. He also tries to ignore Hongjoong’s very excited outfit-planning for him. (He tunes back in for the worrying announcement that Hawaiian shirts will be involved). 

So that’s how he got here. Sitting on his bed, Hongjoong throwing bits and pieces out of his wardrobe to find him an outfit. He won’t lie and say he’s not uncomfortable. He hasn’t had anyone in his house since, like, forever. Now Hongjoong is digging through his cupboards. He doesn’t have anything to hide, but what if there are things he’s forgotten about? Did he really throw out his old BTS shirts? What if Hongjoong finds something what if he thinks Yeosangs weird or awful or strange whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif - “Oh, this will do!”

“Huh?”

“This! You wear this with some dark jeans - very mysterious!”

Hongjoong is brandishing a black button up top that Yeosang had forgotten he had. It’s got a gold design on it and yeah. It’ll be good enough. But like, ugh. Now he’s 100% out of excuses for not going to the party. He steels himself, breathes in and out, and puts on a brave smile. He can do this. He can do this. He can do this, provided Hongjoong doesn’t have any more surprises up his sleeve.

“Makeup!”

“What? No. No! That’s the line - there it is. Drawn, right now, on this carpet. The line.”

Yeosang makes a theatrical showing of marking out a line with his foot in his ugly 70’s carpet. Hongjoong, in response, makes a theatrical showing of stepping over the line. He draws out eyeliner from god-knows-where and attacks. 

“Considering you’re like, 5 feet tall, you’re surprisingly strong.”

Hongjoong hums from where he’s got Yeosang pinned underneath him. “We’re the same height, bitch! And also - stop moving! There - there! I’m done.” Hongjoong frees him (finally), and Yeosang can’t get to the bathroom mirror quickly enough.

He looks...different. Very different. Standing in the mirror is someone far, far sexier than Yeosang usually is. He looks dangerous and sensual and _ugh._ Yeosang isn’t sure how to react. Hongjoong seems to notice his uncertainty and encases him in a back hug. He doesn’t seem to notice how Yeosang stiffens reflexively. 

“You look _gorgeous_ , Yeo. Now! We have to get going - Taeyong is going to go absolutely crazy if we’re late to his birthday party.”

Yeosang looks one last look in the mirror, at the man Hongjoong turned him into, before gritting his teeth. He has a plan. He’ll go to the party, wish Taeyong a happy birthday, drink at least one drink, then escape back to the safety of his bed.

It’s only at the party then Yeosang realizes he’s made several mistakes. First off, he’s not even sure what Taeyong looks like. Hongjoong has already abandoned him for a group of people with brightly colored hair and customized clothes, so chance asking him. He has an idea of the inhabitants of the floor above him, but - is Taeyong the unfairly tall brunette? The smiley one with a Canadian accent? Maybe Yeosang should pay just a _little_ more attention to the people that live in his building.

The second problem is that the room is so crowded that Yeosang isn’t sure he could even find the birthday boy if he knew what he was looking for. Great, that’s step one made impossible. The lights are changing color so often it’s dizzying, and the music is so bass boosted it could only be enjoyable if you’re drunk. Onto step two - drinks. 

Securing a drink is remarkably easier than finding Taeyong. He makes his way towards the kitchen - which is noticeably emptier, then the rest of the apartment. Most of that is likely to do with the couple publicly making out in the corner, but hey. Yeosang has more important things to worry about than interrupting their ‘privacy.’ Like his drink.

He’s just his hand around a bottle of beer when a sugary sweet voice interrupts him from behind.

“Hey, get one for me?”

Yeosang raises an eyebrow at the lack of manners but does it anyway. He’s expecting at least a thank you, but that’s not exactly what he gets. Instead, the stranger looks shocked and insulted upon seeing his face. The man is familiar, sure, and shockingly pretty, but Yeosang can’t place him. Maybe he’s some kind of famous model and is shocked that Yeosang isn’t bowing at his feet. The man looks almost angry at Yeosang now and gets over his speechlessness to utter one word.

“ _You!”_

-

“Me?”

Wooyoung _cannot_ believe this. He’s gone to such lengths to avoid the pretty _annoying_ barista that won’t fall for his spell, and now he’s here? At the same party, Wooyoung sweet-talked his way into? How dare he. How dare he walk into Wooyoung’s life again and again, when all he wants to do is get rid of him!

“Um...do you still want your drink?”

Yeosang - yes, that was his name, his annoying, pretty, graceful name that fit him so well - gestures towards him with the bottle. Wooyoung doesn’t take it. 

“Listen, man, I- I don’t know what your problem is with me. Look, I don’t even know who you are!”

“Don’t you remember me?!” Wooyoung is _this_ close to throwing a tantrum. The only people who forget him are those he’s enchanted to forget him. 

“No?”

“Think. Harder.”

“Oh! Oh, you’re that customer I had today - um, what was it? Woojung? Woosong? Woo-”

“Woo _young_. And it’s nice to know I left an impression.”

“Um, sure. Listen, can I ask what your problem is? I get like, a hundred customers a day. Sorry I don’t remember you.”

Wooyoung feels his rage growing, but he bites it back. He _could_ smite the mortal for his impertinence here and now, but that causes a few problems. The first is that using your omnipotent godly powers to smite mortals when you’re undercover is generally a bad idea. The second, it would lead San and Jongho straight to him. Third, he actually wants to get to know Yeosang more. He’s never met anyone that isn’t automatically attracted to him, and well. He’s a sucker for unique people.

And pretty people. Which Yeosang is. Incredibly so. Magic or not, Wooyoung isn’t going to let this opportunity pass him by. He puts on his most brilliant ‘i’m not about to murder you’ smile and takes the bottle.

“Listen, I’m sorry. Yeosang, was it? I remember from your nametag. I’ve just never met anyone like you before. It took me by surprise.”

“Uh, sure. But like, do you mind moving out of my way?”

“Ok, but - I really think we just got off on the wrong foot. You seem like such a fascinating person - let’s talk a little? To make up for how rude I was.”

Wooyoung steps out of the way but smoothly steps to his side, linking his arm with Yeosangs and smiling at him. Yeosang looks taken aback like he’s not quite sure how to respond. But he’s not shoving Wooyoung off him, which is a good sign. He walks him out of the kitchen, ignoring the lovesick stares he gets from those around him. It seems that his aura is still in perfect working order for the rest of the world then. 

Guiding Yeosang over to a quiet section is harder than it looks. The balcony is occupied by smokers, the couch is packed, and the bedroom doors are both locked. Eventually, they end up in the laundry, Wooyoung sitting on the dryer and Yeosang staring blankly at him.

“Well? You’re the one who wanted to talk.” Wooyoung frowns at this - he knew Yeosang would be a challenge, but he hoped the guy would be at least _somewhat_ sociable. 

“Ok, Yeosang. Then let’s talk. Where are you from?”

“Ohio.”

“Oh, that sounds...exciting!”

“It’s really not.”

God! Was Yeosang really going to make it _this_ difficult? 

“I’m from Greece! I know, I know, I don’t look it. I have heritage from all over- France, Persia, Italy, Korea - name a place, and I’ll have an ancestor there!”

Yeosang barely reacts, just sips his drink, and raises an eyebrow. Wooyoung is seriously getting annoyed now, but he doesn’t want to scare him off by getting mad again. 

“What do you do, Yeosang? Besides being a barista?” Wooyoung is nothing if not determined.

“Um, I’m a student.” There’s an awkward moment of silence before Yeosang realizes that Wooyoung isn’t exactly satisfied with that answer.

“I’m studying design. At Columbia. I’m in my second year. Um - what about you? What do you do?” At this, Wooyoung smiles. If you just let them talk, eventually, they’ll stumble their way into making conversation.

“Me? I’m currently a traveler. But before that - and don’t laugh, please, I was… I was a professional matchmaker.”

Yeosang _laughs_. The nerve! But, if we’re honest, Yeosang has a beautiful laugh. It’s light and airy, and Wooyoung would set it as his ringtone just to hear it every day. So Wooyoung doesn’t really mind that he laughed. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just - it’s just a matchmaker? A _professional_ matchmaker? What did you even do?”

“I helped people with their relationships. And I specialized in starting them. I have a sixth sense for people's ideal type, and just so happen to be talented in finding them the person that matched.”

“Really? Then what’s my ‘ideal type’?”

At this, Wooyoung quiets. Usually, it’s obvious what people’s ideal type is. He can just choose a person, and he’ll _become_ their ideal type. He can read inside a person's brain and discover what their heart craves. But for Yeosang, he’s drawing a complete blank. It’s not like Yeosang doesn’t have an ideal type, it’s just that Wooyoung can find it out. Yeosang is a completely closed book to Wooyoung. It’s almost more exciting than it is frustrating. Almost.

“Hmmm...people that are the same height as you? Purple hair, golden skin, deep, brown eyes? Charming smile? Bold personality?”

Yeosang laughs again at this, and yes - his laugh is just as magical the second time. 

“Really? Because that sounds really specific. Almost like you’re describing someone. Someone like yourself?” Yeosang is smiling as he talks, making Wooyoung’s heart clench. Is this what a heart attack feels like?

“How presumptuous! To assume that I would _lie,_ that I would risk my integrity as a professional matchmaker just to seduce you!”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing, seducing me?”

“Well, is it working?”

That causes both boys to dissolve into uncontrollable giggles, interrupted only by the loud grumbling of Yeosang’s stomach. He blushes intensely, but Wooyoung finds it strangely...endearing?

“Come on, Yeosang. I’ll take you out to eat.”

He offers a hand to Yeosang, and there’s a moment where he’s _sure._ He’s sure Yeosang won’t take it, that he’s going to have to let pretty-barista go, and just remember him as the one person he _couldn’t_ have. 

But then Yeosang takes his hand, and his hand is warm and strong and slightly dry and so, so human it almost bowls Wooyoung over. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t, and Wooyoung holds on tighter, before pulling Yeosang out of the laundry, out of the apartment, and into the big city.

And into his life.

-

Yeosang doesn’t really understand what’s going on. He went to the party with three clear goals - say ‘happy birthday,’ get a drink, go to bed. He managed to complete about 0.5 out of 3, considering Wooyoung had dragged him away before he could finish his beer. And there’s the thing that Yeosang doesn’t understand - Wooyoung. After staring at him for a little longer, Yeosang has decided it’s safe to say he’s probably the most gorgeous person on the planet. So what is he doing, flirting with Yeosang and buying him food from a deli down a random backstreet that Yeosang didn’t even know existed? 

“How did you even find this place? I thought you said you were new to the city.”

“Oh, I am! But like I said - I find love. And right here - the chef _loves_ this place. Love makes good food.”

Oh yeah, there’s also Wooyoung's habit of dropping inspirational tidbits out of nowhere in the middle of a normal conversation. The guy is _fascinating,_ but Yeosang is afraid it’s more than fascination that’s forcing him to keep holding Wooyoung’s hand. Maybe it’s...no. No, there is no way Yeosang can be falling that deep for a guy he’s known for like, 4 hours. He’s probably just really, really enjoying this sandwich, and got his feelings all mixed up. Yeah, that makes sense. They’ve been walking for the better part of two hours, just wandering around the freezing cold streets at some ridiculous time in the morning and talking. It’s the most fun Yeosang has ever had.

He doesn’t even realize it, but Wooyoung has guided back to the apartment building and is smiling at him like he’s saying goodbye. 

“Um, will I - will I see you again?”

God, he sounds so _desperate_. Like, saying ‘may I please get another date?’ would probably be more dignified. But like everything Yeosang’s done, it just makes Wooyoung smile and break out in giggles.

“Of course! What about tomorrow? You said your classes were from 8-12? Then you had work until 6? I’ll see you at quarter past!”

“Y-yeah - that sounds nice. Wait! Where are you staying? Is it far?” Wooyoung looks nervous at the question, looking at the ground. 

“I was just going to find a hotel somewhere close by - you wouldn’t know anywhere?” 

“Stay with me!” Again, desperate.

“I mean, you don’t have to - obviously you don’t have to, and there’s a hostel a block over if you don’t and, to be honest, my apartment is sort of shitty, but I’ll take the couch if you want and -”

“I’d love to stay with you!”

Oh. That’s not really the reaction Yeosang was expecting. Usually, his anxiety fuelled outbursts have less positive results. But Wooyoung’s agreed now, which means Yeosang can’t back out. Which - oh no. Just now, the reality of letting someone that's not Hongjoong into his apartment is settling in. Wooyoung is going to see his entire apartment in all it’s one room glory. While he doesn’t know all that much about him, Yeosang’s gathered that he’s used to things being finer than an old double mattress and a thrifted couch. Wooyoung is completely oblivious to Yeosang’s impending meltdown as they wait for the elevator. In fact, he looks almost thrilled at the thought of getting to go to his place.

They enter the apartment, and Wooyoung gasps - Yeosang almost passes out, convinced that he’s in shock at the state of the place. But then he moves forward, smiling brighter then he has all evening. 

Yeosang looks at the place, and he can’t really see what Wooyoung is so happy about. His decorations amount to anime posters and pictures of his old friends from high school, as well as some of the sketches he’s done in his free time. There’s some sad looking plants, as well as a brightly painted clay vase Hongjoong made and gifted to him as a housewarming gift. 

“Did you _make_ these? They’re incredible!”

Wooyoung is staring at some of the sketches, looking at them with the same expression you might have while staring at a painting in the Louvre. It’s beginning to make Yeosang a little self-conscious. He doesn’t want to interrupt, however, so he just stares while Wooyoung looks at everything on his wall, running a hand over the leaves of the plants and smiling at the vase. Overall, he seems entranced by Yeosang’s apartment. (If he notices the fine layer of dust, stemming from Yeosang’s lack of motivation to clean, he doesn’t mention it). 

He turns to look at Yeosang, the smile never dropping from his face. 

“Well? What do you - uh, what do you think?”

Yeosang steels himself for the worst. He imagines that Wooyoung has just been polite this entire time, but now he’s going to let Yeosang know what he really thinks.

“I love it!”

“What?”

“It’s so unique! And so you! You know, someone’s home is a representation of what they love. And the fact that you love your art, your friends? It’s beautiful!”

Yeosang is blushing. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and while it’s not the first time Wooyoung has made him blush tonight, this time, he can’t hide it in the dim light of the streets. 

“Um, thank you? Anyway - um - we should go to sleep. I have school in the morning and - you have, I don’t know - people to meet? Haha, um, I’ll take the couch if you want the bed?”

There goes his rambling again. Why can’t he make decent sentences when he’s anxious? Thankfully, Wooyoung seems to find it adorable (that, or the endeared smile on his face is because he really, really likes that vase).

“Nonsense! I’m not letting you sleep on the couch in your own home!”

“Well, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch. You’re my guest!”

“Then I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Wait, what?”

Wooyoung smiles - _how_ is it so easy for him to fluster Yeosang? 

“Also, I’ll need something to sleep in?”

Oh, yeah. Yeosang really should have thought this one through just a little more. He concedes, though, and gives Wooyoung the nicest pair of sweatpants and the nicest sleep shirt he owns (and also doesn’t have an embarrassing graphic on it). Wooyoung goes into the bathroom to get changed, which gives Yeosang a nice long 5 minutes to freak _the fuck_ out in his bedroom. 

He’s going to sleep with Wooyoung? In the same bed? Does Yeosang sleep talk? Does he snore? What if he _does,_ and no-ones ever told him? The possibilities are piling up, and Yeosang is seriously considering hurling himself out of his window just to avoid the next few hours. Wait, what if his morning breath is _really, really_ bad?

“Uh, Yeosang?”

Oh. Wooyoung’s changed. And before anyone asks, _no,_ the sight of him in Yeosang’s clothes doesn’t awaken some weird possessive desire in him. Well, it kind of does. But Yeosang is way too tired to even think about acting on it - he has been walking for a while, and there’s only so much coffee he can steal from work before it gets suspicious. 

Wooyoung smiles at Yeosang’s complete and utter lack of response and _god._ If Wooyoung wants to make conversation, he’s going to have to stop smiling so much. Every grin strikes Yeosang speechless.

They climb (or fall, rather - Yeosang can’t afford a bed frame) onto the mattress together. It’s way too cramped and hot, Yeosang can already tell he’s going to be uncomfortably sweaty in about 10 minutes max, and Wooyoung cuddles like an octopus. 

It’s the fastest Yeosang has ever fallen asleep.

-

Wooyoung wakes up alone. There’s a note taped to the nightstand, letting Wooyoung know where the spare key is, giving him permission to wear some of Yeosang’s clothes if he wants to leave the apartment, and apologizing for having to leave so early in the morning. There’s also a cute cartoon character drawn on the bottom, and Wooyoung isn’t sure that his heart can take this abuse much longer.

Waking up alone is a new feeling for him. Usually, people are desperate to spend every last second in his company. Then again, Yeosang isn’t exactly usual. He’s gorgeous and funny, and Wooyoung is completely head over heels in love with him.

He approaches the realization remarkably calmly. It’s the first mortal he’s ever actually been in love with - honestly, he thought it was impossible. But it’s love. He knows love. He knows what love looks and feels like for mortals, and it only makes sense it feels the same for him.

And the clenching of his heart whenever he looks at Yeosang, the smile on his lips whenever he thinks about him - yeah. All symptoms point towards a severe affliction of the heart.

One thing he doesn’t know, however, is how Yeosang feels about him. He fell in love in a matter of 24 hours, but Yeosang might still regard him as a casual acquaintance. Or a very, very strange stranger staying in his home. God! Is this really how humans do things? Just stumble around, wondering things about each other and never really knowing if they’re right? He always thought it was amusing when he saw a human convince themselves that someone obviously in love with them wasn’t, or vice versa. Still, he never thought he’d be in this situation! He knows that mortals often go to their friends for advice - however, the only friends he has have been hunting him down across the globe, trying to haul his ass back to Olympus.

So he can’t call San and Jongho, and he can’t call anyone else. He falls back onto the bed with a humph, thoroughly annoyed at his inability to make this work for him. That’s what he does for humans - or did, when he was still in the business, presiding over his godly domain - he'd just snap his fingers, and they’d find the love that was meant for them. But he can’t do that to himself - believe him, he’s tried before. So what else do humans do? How else do you discover your place in the grand cosmic plan the three sisters are weaving?

The answer is so obvious, he can’t believe he didn’t think of it before.

He’ll go to a _fortune-teller_!

He’ll find someone - a real, genuine fortune teller - and ask them what exactly is going on. And they’ll tell him because that’s their job, and it’ll be true because he’ll find one blessed by Seonghwa.

He jumps up quickly and manages to get the blanket tangled around his feet, sending him crashing to the floor. It’s an undignified rise from bed, but he’s too excited to learn answers to care. Also, Yeosang is at his university, so there’s no-one around to care. Or laugh at him. First, he rummages through Yeosang’s wardrobe to find something to wear.

Old pair of blue jeans covered in paint? Maybe not. Faded t-shirt with a picture of Kim Taehyung from 2014? Wooyoung considers it but passes. A pair of firetruck red overalls? A statement, but not for Wooyoung. Finally, he pulls out a pair of dark blue jeans and a loose red hoodie. It’s casual and cute, and also the hoodie smells like Yeosang. Which is a bonus. 

Dressed to impress, he takes his wallet from the pocket of his old jeans and leaves the apartment, finally ready to take on the day. He locks the door and pockets the spare key - it was hidden under the plastic dinosaur in the large plant outside, just as the note said, and goes to wait for the elevator.

Already waiting there is a scarily tall man with bright red hair. He looks at Wooyoung, then does a double-take, and stares at him.

“Um, hi?”

“Oh, hi!” So tall guy has an intimidatingly deep voice too. Good to know.

“I’m sorry for staring, it’s just I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before?”

“I was at the party last night. Yeosang and I met there, and I stayed over at his apartment?”

“You STAYED AT _YEOSANG’S_?”

“Sure, just let the whole building know!”

That causes the guy to blush and lower his voice, at least. But Wooyoung could tell Yeosang was a bit introverted but was it really that rare for him to have people over? 

“I’m sorry, again, haha, it’s just I’ve been trying to see Yeosang’s place _forever_! He’s a really talented designer, which means his interior decorating must be up to par, right? But as much as I try, he won’t let me in! Also, I’m Mingi. It’s nice to see a new face around here!”

“Wooyoung. It’s nice to see...all of these new faces.” Mingi is like an open book to read, which is nice after all this mystery with Yeosang. He’s in love with someone that he’s fuckbuddies with. Shame. Maybe if Yeosang hadn’t captured every inch of Wooyoung’s attention, he’d be tempted to spend the night with Mingi and take his mind off it. But he has a goal - and finally, the elevator arrives and Wooyoung steps inside.

“Are you not going to get in too?”

“Oh no, actually, I...I’m waiting for someone else.”

“Well, good luck! Oh - and by the way - he likes you more than you think he does!”

The elevator doors shut, cutting off any questions Mingi might have had. It’s just as easy to tell when someone is loved as it is to tell when they love someone else. And Wooyoung can’t deny it, he misses getting to make relationships work just so, just by giving them a little nudge in the right direction.

More important than the relationships of Yeosang’s neighbors, however, is finding this fortune teller. He’s looking for one of Seonghwa’s priestesses, but he hasn’t had contact with the sun deity for some time now. He knows one thing, however, and that's no matter who Seonghwa is, whether it’s him or Apollo or Utu if you follow the sun, you’ll find his oracle.

Or, at least someone that’s vaguely related to him. Or just has his symbol hanging on their wall. Fortune teller finding is not an exact science.

So, with lack of a better plan, Wooyoung finds the sun and begins to follow it. (He feels like a little bit of an idiot, but he is by far not the strangest person out on the streets of New York today. It takes some walking, and some stopping for snacks, but eventually, the sun leads Wooyoung directly to...an alleyway. He did say it’s not an exact science.

However, the sun is staring at him expectantly, and he can feel Seonghwa behind it, asking what’s taking so long. (Hopefully, Seonghwa can’t tell who he is from so far away). He walks down the alleyway. It’s cold and damp, and things are rustling in the trash bags on the side, but the soft glow of a neon sign at the end is giving him confidence. And once he gets close enough to read it, he can see why. The neon sign reads out ‘Delphi,’ and the door is emblazoned with his old friend's symbol.

He enters the club - considering it’s only about 2 o’clock, it’s almost entirely empty. A bored-looking person is wearing an apron, scrolling through their phone at one of the barstools. They turn to look at Wooyoung, and the eyebrow they raise is so perfectly manicured it makes Wooyoung feel a little inadequate. They’re human, but they’ve got the mark of a deity on their aura - he’s in the right place.

“Don’t play any funny tricks on me now, lover boy.” Their accent is confusing, a strange mix of American and Greek, and something else entirely.

“Um, I’m here to see the oracle?”

“Course you are. He’s been expecting you.”

Huh. Strange of Seonghwa to give the gift of prophecy to a male, especially when he’s already so selective.

“It’s through the yellow door in the back.” 

The person goes back to their phone, and Wooyoung is aware that that's the conversation over. He walks through the door, and for the life of him can’t figure out why he’s so _nervous._ It takes him all of 10 seconds to understand. He’s been expecting one of Seonghwa’s oracles or priestesses. Instead, sitting calmly on the couch, illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp, is Seonghwa.

“Seonghwa!”

“Wooyoung. Nice of you to arrive. I was beginning to think you’ll never find your way over to me.”

“Listen, Seonghwa, you can’t! Don’t make me go back - you know it was miserable for me!”

“Jung Wooyoung. You were once the god of love. And now, you are no god at all. At least not officially. You fled your domain, and now you live and exist running from place to place. Here you are, in New York.”

“You know, I really miss when Apollo would tell you your entire life story because at least he’d do it in song. You just talk and make me feel all weird.”

Seonghwa just smiles. He is so infuriatingly calm.

“You’ve met someone, and you can’t affect them at all. You think you’re here because you want advice on your love like some foolish mortal. But you’re wrong.”

“Seonghwa, what the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t want advice. You don’t want to know what Yeosang feels. You want to know whether your magic is failing. You want to know whether or not you’re going to lose everything that makes you special.”

Oh. Wooyoung forgot how _mean_ Seonghwa could be. Then again, maybe he’s just mad that Wooyoung was always so mean to him about his little crushes. He also forgot how stupid he could be. Seriously, implying that Wooyoung is only here because he’s worried about himself?

“You’re wrong, Seonghwa. And besides, I already know that my magic still works!”

“Does it? You haven’t tried.”

“I could tell... with Mingi! That guy, I could read his love! Don’t try to freak me out, Hwa.”

“But you got it wrong. Yunho doesn’t love Mingi back. Fuck, even I could tell that just from my prophecies. Losing your touch, Wooyoung?” 

This little - he can’t be serious. He knew that Mingi was loved by that guy, he could tell...or was it just wishful thinking?

“The longer you stay here, the harder it will become. The bonds that tie you to Olympus are fading every day. And now that you're forming stronger bonds here - soon, we’ll lose you entirely.”

“No - no, you’re wrong! You have to be!” Wooyoung is crying now, thick tears obscuring his voice. He left Olympus, why does it hurt so much to know he might never be able to return?

Seonghwa is still infuriatingly calm. Keeping still and quiet, face a blank canvas.

“This has happened before. Aphrodite, with Adonis. Inanna, with Dumuzid. It is in your nature to fall for mortals, but you never truly have them. The fact that you turned your back on us makes that no different -”

“It does! It does make a difference because I wanted to choose Adonis! But I couldn’t, but I can choose Yeosang - I can choose him, I -”

“No!” 

Seonghwa is getting angry. He’s standing now, eyes burning golden.

“You’ve had your fun - come back. Come back to Olympus!”

“No!”

“Why not?” A step closer to Wooyoung. “Tired of your duty?” Another step. “Tired of being the person you _have_ to be? We are all given roles by Kaos! Your’s to focus on the love of _others!”_

“I didn’t want that!” He’s dangerously close, standing over Wooyoung.

“You don’t have a choice!” Seonghwa roars. His eyes are a fiery gold, but for all his intimidation, his power, he’s still an idiot.

“You’re wrong. I do. I do have a choice!”

“Wooyoung, if you are implying what I think you are-”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?” It’s probably not a good idea to piss him off any further, but hey. Wooyoung has a plan. 

“I will gather our siblings. We will bring you back to Olympus, whether you like it or not!”

Huh. Maybe now would be a good time to put the plan in action.

Wooyoung turns on his heel and runs. 

-

Yeosang has been waiting for exactly 7 minutes and 24 seconds. He’s already convinced that Wooyoung has forgotten about him, that he’s decided Yeosang isn’t worth his time. Which would really, really suck. Yeosang isn’t sure about a lot of things, but he’s sure he wants - needs - Wooyoung to stick around for longer. He’s just about to level up to a full-blown panic attack about being left behind when Wooyoung appears at the end of the street.

He’s running, and it looks like he’s been running for a while. His hair is stuck to his forehead, and sweat is dripping off him. The expression on his face is one of fear and pure determination. What the _hell_ happened to him?

When he sees Yeosang, however, his mouth splits into a wide smile, and huh. Maybe Yeosang was worried about nothing. Maybe Wooyoung wants him to stick around him as well. Yeosang doesn’t get to revel in the realization for long. Wooyoung jogs up to him, smiling but also looking behind nervously. 

“Yeosang! Hi! I’m sorry I’m late, but you have to listen - I’ve been lying to you!”

“Oh, no problem, I wasn’t waiting that long - wait, _what?”_

Wooyoung looks so scared to tell Yeosang what it is - god, what if he’s mafia? Or the CIA? Or-

“I’m an immortal god. From Olympus.”

That is not exactly what Yeosang was expecting.

“I’m sorry for telling you earlier, but-” Wooyoung is still panting, sucking in deep breaths - “I didn’t think you’d understand!”

“Well, good guess, because I’m lost as hell! What do you mean you’re immortal?”

“I can’t die, I’m basically - RUN!”

“What?”

Wooyoung seems shit-scared of whatever he saw over his shoulder. Considering he has an iron tight grip on Yeosang’s hand and has already started running, Yeosang has no choice but to follow him. He spares a glance over his shoulder and sees nothing unusual - except for three figures also running after them, dressed in silver, gold, and blood-red armor, respectively. He picks up the pace.

Wooyoung is still talking to him as they sprint, yelling over the wind in their eyes.

“I’m a god! We change every few centuries - I used to be Aphrodite! Duck!”

A silver arrow whizzes over their heads, impaling a hot dog cart directly in the umbrella. 

“So, you’re the god of love?”

“Basically! And I can control people’s love, and see who they love, and make them fall in love with me!”

“You made me fall in love with you?!” Another arrow, gold this time, whizzes past Yeosang’s ear. 

“No! My magic doesn’t work on you - I think it’s because we’re soulmates! Wait, you love me?” That causes Wooyoung to stop, staring at Yeosang with a sappy smile.

“Yes, you dumbass! Now keep running!” They take off again, darting down an alleyway and into the maze of backstreets. They end up on a fire escape, running up until they end up on a roof. They pause, panting, and catching their breath. The sky is a beautiful golden glow as the sun begins to set.

“Who’s following us, anyway?”

“They’re my friends! Seonghwa, San, and Jongho - gods of the sun, moon, and war, among other things!”

“And they’re chasing you, why? A friendly game of tag?”

“Nope!” Wooyoung is still smiling despite the situation, and Yeosang would be flattered that his confession made that happen, if he wasn’t about to be killed by 3 immortal beings.

“They want to bring me back to Olympus - I got tired of not being allowed to have any fun, so I left!”

“Ok, why do they want to kill me?”

“Because they’re afraid I’m going to choose you over them. And they’re right to be afraid, because -”

“Wooyoung!” That would be the scary silver guy - the moon one, San? Or Artemis? This is too weird. The three are standing at the edge of the roof, weapons drawn.

“Stop running. Come home with us, and no-one has to get hurt.” Scary red guy takes another step closer, holding his sword out in front of him.

“Really? You said that about Adonis, and he ended up skewered by one of your boars!” Wooyoung is so angry at them, but his grip on Yeosang’s hand has yet to falter.

“I won’t let history repeat itself!”

Wooyoung steps forward, holding tight onto Yeosang.

“Seonghwa, you said that if my bond to this mortal world is greater than my bond to Olympus, I won’t ever get to return? I’ll be free?”

“Wooyoung - what the hell are you talking about? Don’t do this, don’t do this to me!” 

“San. I love you, but I can’t come home. I can’t! I can’t sit by and become a statue - I want to feel things, really feel things! Like love! I’m the god of love, but I’ve only ever felt it a handful of times! I won’t let you take this away from me!”

“Wooyoung, you don’t have a choice!” The golden guy takes a step forward, but Wooyoung doesn’t back down.

“I do. I do have a choice. The bonds are mine, yeah? Then they’re mine to break.”

“No - you can’t, you’ll become mortal, you’ll die!”

Yeosang is getting a headache. He can’t figure out what’s going on - is he going to lose Wooyoung already? 

“Hey, Wooyoung?”

He turns from the gods immediately, staring into Yeosang’s eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“I have to choose, Yeosang.” His voice is deadly serious. 

“If I choose you, then I choose this mortal world. I leave being a god behind. All my power. I’ll become a mortal. I’ll become like you.” His hand is so _warm_ in Yeosang’s. 

“Ok.” Yeosang takes a deep breath. This is really _not_ how he saw their second date going. But for once, he’s sure. He’s sure of what he wants.

“Ok. If you choose me, I’ll have you. I won’t ever let you go, Wooyoung. You’ll always have me. Always. Maybe not for eternity but - but for this mortal life. You’ll have me for this life.”

“Yeosang -” Wooyoung’s eyes are filling with tears, but he looks happier than Yeosang’s ever seen him. Behind him, there are three gods - one looks distraught, and the other two look enraged. 

Wooyoung looks over his shoulder, tears dripping from his lashes onto his cheeks. 

“Goodbye. I love you all very, very much. But - but I can’t stay with you. I just can’t.”

The god in silver cries out in pain, but Wooyoung isn’t looking at them anymore. He’s looking at Yeosang. His big eyes and his bright smile. He leans in, one of his hands tangled in Yeosang’s hair, the other still gripping his hand tightly. 

“Yeosang -”

His voice is barely louder than a whisper, but it feels as powerful as galaxies colliding.

“I choose you.”

Their lips touch. Wooyoung is warm against him. Everything feels right. Behind his closed eyes, Yeosang can see a universe.

\- 

“No way!” 

“It’s all true, I’m telling you - 100%!”

The three little children laugh from where they’re sitting on the balcony. The house is a classic Italian villa, sandy stone, and an orange roof. Behind the house, an orange orchard sprawls out, the last of the oranges becoming ready to be picked as the season turns to summer. The scene is soaked in golden sunlight. Sitting in a wooden chair, the children at his feet, sits a man. 

He’s old, his hair silver and skin wrinkled, but it’s tan, and his eyes are still bright. He’s been telling his grandchildren a story - the story of how him and his partner met. From time to time, his husband will pop in to add his perspective, but it’s clear the kids aren’t buying it.

“Hey, kids! Stop listening to your pops fill your head with nonsense - come and wash up for dinner!” That’s his daughter, a beautiful woman he raised, along with her two younger brothers. The kids scramble to get up, laughing joyfully with each other as they trip over their own feet. The man’s partner walks outside and sits in the chair next to him, smiling at the sun.

“Do you think he misses you, Wooyoung-ah?”

“The sun? He probably misses me terribly. But not as much as I’d miss you.”

The light is glinting off the gold of their wedding rings, and the smiles they share are warmer than any star in the sky. They lean into each other to share a kiss, one of many. 

The sun is warm on their skin, and the universe they share is more beautiful than any the gods could create.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twt at @yeoz0ne !!
> 
> also, i cant find any of the @'s of the original ppl who i was doing the collab with and i lost the gc - if you know pls tell me i miss u guys


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